


Operation Maccabee

by thegirlinthebandtshirt



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Captain Cobra - Freeform, Captain Swan - Freeform, Christmas, Christmas Tree, F/M, Fluff, Hanukkah, Holiday Traditions, Holidays, Jewish Food, Jewish Holidays, Kisses, Latkes, Menorah, Winter, holiday fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 10:34:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8887564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegirlinthebandtshirt/pseuds/thegirlinthebandtshirt
Summary: Killian overhears Emma telling Mary Margaret about her favorite holiday memory.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I saw a bunch of lists on tumblr of people recommending Christmas-themed fics. When I looked up Hanukkah-themed Captain Swan fics I found nothing, so I was inspired to write one for all the Jewish Oncers out there.  
> Enjoy!  
> ~Jordy
> 
> PS- beta'd by my awesome friend, Olesya.

Emma takes a sip of the hot cocoa and cinnamon her mother made for her and smiles as she watches her boyfriend and her son going through boxes of Christmas decorations in front of where she sat on the couch. Mary Margaret walks in her living room, carrying baby Neal in one arm, her own hot cocoa in the other. David is at the station; he gave Emma the day off so she could join her mother and her family help decorate the house.  


“This is the way it was supposed to be.” Mary Margaret puts Neal down in his playpen and joins Emma on the couch. “This is what it would have been like every year,” she pauses, “but in the palace.” Emma gives her mother a loving glance, not wanting her to feel guilty about putting her through the wardrobe, especially right before the holidays. Emma watches Killian and Henry start hanging ornaments on the tree.  


“Actually, one of my good memories, my few good memories, of one of my foster homes was a holiday celebration.” Mary Margaret’s head jerks over so she can lock eyes with her daugher.  


“Really?” Emma looks down as Mary Margaret smiles to herself, feeling a bit relieved that Emma’s life wasn’t completely miserable because of what she and David did.  


“My favorite foster family, the one I took my last name from, they celebrated Hanukkah when I was there,” she pauses, then speaks again, “it was the only year I got presents and we had lots of food and celebrated with their whole extended family.” There is silence between the women as they watch Henry and Killian continue their decorating. Henry puts a Santa hat on Killian who looks absolutely perplexed by the act. Henry laughs and Killian turns to Emma and Mary Margaret,  


“Swan! Look at the silly hat your boy found! It’s like Smee’s hat, but more ridiculous!” Emma turns to Mary Margaret, silently asking for permission to leave her to join her boys.  


“Go. It’s your first Christmas. Go.” Mary Margaret brings her mug to her lips as she watches her daughter participating in holiday traditions with her family. Henry notices the exchange between the women,  


“Grandma, this is your house. Why don’t you join us?” Mary Margaret shakes her head,  


“Thank you, Henry, but I’d rather watch you all. This is your first Christmas as a family, enjoy it.” Henry shrugs in response and turns back to his mom and her pirate, who shows Emma the furry white pom pom on top of his hat.  


“Killian, that’s a Santa hat.” He raises an eyebrow. “Santa. You know, fat guy in a red suit that gives every kid in the world presents on Christmas. White beard, kinda creepy.” There is silence. “You don’t know who Santa Claus is?!”  


“I’m afraid I’m not yet acquainted with this Santa.”  


“Killian, have you ever celebrated Christmas before? Any holiday?” He shakes his head in response.  


“Looks like it’s a first Christmas for us both, Swan.”  


“I had one good Christmas before. Henry and I celebrated alone that year in New York,” Henry nods. “But that- that wasn’t real. None of it was,” her green eyes grow sad. Killian gives her a kiss on the cheek. He can see her trying to hold back tears, “let’s finish decorating. I want to be done before my dad gets home.” He watches her grab some garland from the box and wrap it around the tree. She gives a star to Henry and he places it on the top of the tree. He smiles as he watches his family laugh. He thinks of what Mary Margaret and Emma talked about. Emma needs to make some good holiday memories to replace the bad ones from being in foster care, and he is determined to give her the best holiday ever.  


  


Killian finds himself talking to Marco the next morning. He left for Marco’s after Emma left for the station, trying to get there without getting caught. He walks out of Marco’s feeling relieved and confident. There is one week to Christmas Eve and he is excited to do this for Emma.  


  


Henry helps Killian learn to delete his internet history on his talking phone. Since Emma showed him Google, he has taken advantage, looking up everything he could, especially about these winter holidays everyone was so excited about. He asks Henry for help making the holiday perfect for Emma, knowing that he would have some good insight on his mother. Henry calls it “Operation Maccabee.”  


  


Emma wakes up on Christmas Eve to the smell of food. She is wrapped tightly in Killian’s arms. Her eyelids flutter open and she rolls over to face him.  


“Good morning,” Emma notices he is already dressed and she wonders how he slipped out from the bed without her noticing.  


“Morning, Swan,” he fingers the ends of her hair falling over her shoulders.  


“What’s that smell? It smells delicious,” she closed her eyes and took a breath. She recognizes the smell, but can’t quite identify what it is.  


“That, love, is a surprise,” he bops her on the nose and wiggles his eyebrows. “Are you hungry?”  


“Yeah,” he gets up and offers her his hand. She takes it and follows him downstairs. She is greeted by a table with two full plates and bowls. “Killian, what-” He shushes her so he can explain,  


“Shh, shh. Listen. I used the Google to look up Hanukkah after I overheard you talk with your mother. You said your happiest memory from a foster home was celebrating Hanukkah, so I wanted to have another Hanukkah for you.” She rolls her eyes at his usage of “the Google,” but she immediately starts tearing up as she continues to listen. “Apparently the traditional food eaten on Hanukkah is potato pancakes. And something called matzo ball soup, which is essentially chicken soup with a ball of bread in the middle,” Emma laughs as she wipes her cheeks, finding her fingertips wet. “And doughnuts with jam, err...jelly, in the middle.”  


“Did you make all this?” She looks at the plates. There are perfectly round latkes with applesauce and sour cream so she can have her choice of dip. There is a pot of matzo ball soup on the stove and both bowls on the table are filled to the brim with the contents. On the far side of the plates, each has a pile of mini powdered jelly doughnuts.  


“Aye.” She stares at him in disbelief before pulling him in for a deep kiss.  


"Thank you, Killian.”  


“Eat, Emma. There’s more surprises for later,” she eyes him at the mention of more, but sits anyway when he removes her chair for her. She goes right for a doughnut, sighing as she eats; it is perfect. Before she can take another bite, his lips are on hers, his tongue tracing the line of her lips and swiping away the powdered sugar. He licks his lips as he pulls away, smirking as he sits in the seat across from her. She’s still breathless from the kiss as he asks her if she likes the doughnuts. She nods, not able to form words at the moment. Popping the rest of the doughnut in her mouth, she looks at the other offerings on the table and decides to go for the soup next. He works on his latke, trying both the accompaniments as he watches her eat spoonful after spoonful of soup. It instantly warms her as it slips down her throat, comforting her from the inside out.  


“Killian, this is delicious,” she is halfway done her bowl of soup before she speaks.  


“I’m glad you enjoy it,” he moves his bowl closer to himself and takes a spoonful for himself. All that’s left for Emma to try are the latkes, which she still can’t believe look so perfect. She grabs one with her hands and takes a bite, wondering how she couldn’t associate their smell earlier this morning. Her food is mostly gone when she realizes they’ve been sitting in silence. “I can’t believe you did all this. How did you do all this?”  


“I had some help from your boy. We called it ‘Operation Maccabee,’” Killian scratches the back of his ear with his hand and almost blushes. She bites her lip as she thinks about the past week, remembering absolutely no sign of any plans to surprise her.  


“You guys were sneaky,” his smile fades, waiting for her to be upset for bringing up her past or for sneaking around with Henry. She puts her hand over his, “thank you.”  


“Of course, Swan.” he tangles his fingers with hers, “are you happy?”  


“I am.”  


  


After Killian cleaned the dishes, she offered to help but he insisted, he told her to close her eyes while he went to the closet to get something. So she is sitting on the couch with her eyes closed, extremely tempted to peek, but she respects his wishes.  


“Okay, Swan. Open your eyes,” Killian was in front of her with a gift bag in his hand. “Wrapping paper doesn’t stand a chance against this,” he holds up his hook, “sorry it isn’t wrapped.”  


“Killian, you didn’t have to get me anything. You already did so much. I just wanted to spend the holidays with you.”  


“Actually, I got you eight gifts. The talking phone said Hanukkah was eight days.” Emma is absolutely speechless; she stares at him, not believing any of it. “Are you alright? You’re staring.”  


“Sorry, sorry. It’s just, no one has ever done anything so sweet for me before,” Killian’s thumb wipes a stray tear from her face and she picks up the gift bag.  


“Don’t apologize. You deserve to be spoiled, Emma. I would do anything for you. I-”  


“I love you, Killian,” she pulls him by the sides of his jacket, crashing her lips into his, earning a surprised noise from him before he parts his lips to kiss her back. One of her hands is still holding the gift bag, the other pulls at the hair at the nape of his neck.  


“I love you too,” he breathes out as they pull away. He sees her open her mouth to apologize again, so he interrupts her before she can, “Open it.” Her eyes drop to the bag on her lap and she pushes layers of tissue paper aside and pulls out her gift. “I noticed we didn’t have a menorah. I had Marco make one especially for you.” She studied it; it was gorgeous. The menorah was smooth, crafted to look like a Swan. There were spaces for 9 candles to be placed, one for each night, plus one higher up.  


“It’s beautiful,” she admires it for a minute longer than she expected, moving her glance to her boyfriend, who is fidgeting on the couch next to her. She didn’t even notice he sat down. “We can use this to light the first candles tonight.” He breathes out a sigh of relief; she pretends not to notice.  


“Aye, that sounds good, love.”  


“You do know I’m not actually Jewish, right?” She teases him and he scratches that spot behind his ear again.  


“Well you mentioned that your happiest holiday memory was celebrating Hanukkah, so I wanted to give you-”  


“-I love it. We can make new holiday memories now.” He gives her a look to verify that the Hanukkah gifts would be okay; she responds, “I think we should start celebrating Hanukkah and Christmas. And we have the perfect menorah to celebrate with,” she smiles as she moves to put the menorah on their counter. “There is one Christmas tradition I want to share with you though,” she gestures for him to walk over to her. He does, eyebrows raised in silent question as he does so. “Do you know what this is?” She points to a plant taped to the kitchen cabinet above them.  


“No, I’m afraid I am unfamiliar with this particular plant.”  


“It’s called mistletoe. When you find yourself under one of those with someone, you have to kiss them,” she watches a smirk grace his face.  


“Well if it is a tradition, I suppose we must,” he presses his hand to her back and pulls her closer, capturing her lips with his. She hums in satisfaction as they pull away. They keep their foreheads pressed together, not wanting to separate.  


“Merry Christmas, Killian.”  


“Happy Hanukkah, Swan.”


End file.
